The Hunger Games Epilogue
by TheWhisperingRain
Summary: As much as I adore the series, I didn't like the way the epilogue concluded it, so I rewrote it the way I hoped it would end :)


**Epilogue**

The sun beamed down and kissed my cheeks with it's warmth. District 12 hadn't seen such a beautiful spring day in what seemed like ages. I rounded the side of the house and stopped to admire the bushes of primroses that were planted there. Just the sight of them flooded back the bittersweet memories that haunted me from my past. _Prim._ Just the mention of her name within my thoughts could bring tears to my eyes. I heard the sound of grass crunching from behind me and quickly brushed away a forming tear. I turned around just in time to watch them dance about the grassy meadow.

The young boy with the blond curls and grey eyes struggled to chase the older dark haired girl. As I watched them play, I began to realize how much they resembled Peeta and myself. And the girl, Prim in her younger years. It took me five, ten, fifteen years to agree but Peeta wanted them so badly. As if reading my thoughts, he approached me from behind silently and laid a soft, loving hand on my shoulder. His touch shot a warm sensation through my body. I smiled, realizing the feelings he still gave me over 20 years later.

"You know you don't have to worry about them. They will never have to go through what we did." He said steadily, trying to assure me. He was right, though. Since the horrors of our past, the arenas have been completely demolished, the memorials built, the destroyed districts have been restored, and there are no more Hunger Games. Our generation's children will never be thrust into the terrors of what we once knew as our norm. Sure, they will read about them in their history books; The girl has already learned about some of it, and she knows we once played a role in them. The boy will learn in a few years. How could I tell them myself without frightening them?

"I know," I finally responded, my eyes not leaving their spot.

"I saw Haymitch today, in town. I invited him over for dinner tomorrow evening."

"That's great," I said genuinely, happy the subject had been changed. Haymitch was one of the few people that we truly remained in contact with throughout the years. He had aged with his liquor by his side, raising his geese in between bottles. Alas, he remained active in our lives and the children's; He was the girl's godfather.

"Come inside and let them play," Peeta said breaking into my thoughts. He took me by the hand and gently guided me to the back door, holding it open for me. I stood in the kitchen in front of the window to still watch them run.

"I saw Gale on television today," I said softly, staring out of the window intensely, avoiding Peeta's gaze. I could see his facial expression stiffen out of the corner of my eye, though. "He looked well," I added.

"Was he being interviewed?" he questioned. I could tell he was tense but was trying to seem civil about the subject.

"Yes, by Caesar."

"Ah. When is his final taping again?"

"I think next Friday."

"That's good. He's been a talk show host for almost 30 years now."

"It's about time he retires then," I chuckled. I had flashbacks to the first time I interviewed with Caesar before the games.

"So what did Caesar ask Gale then?"

"Just how he's been doing and details about his job in District 2."

"Did he ask about us?"

"Yeah." I hesitated. "He asked if we still keep in touch..."

"What did he say?"

"He answered truthfully. I guess the way any of us would."

The truth was if I was in Gale's position I don't think I _would _know how to answer that question. Sure, Gale sweeps into District 12 on business and to visit his hometown every once and a while, but it definitely was a rarity. He makes sure to stop by the house to catch up when he does, though. I admit, since the devastation of losing Prim I had pushed Gale away, blaming him for all of the unhappiness I was feeling and even pinning her untimely death on him. However, over the years I have grown to move on and forgive; the pain is still very real, but the accusations have died. Even Peeta has managed to remain civil with him upon visits. It can be slightly uncomfortable at times, but we all seem to make do.

"Effie was also on the show today," I added, trying to lighten the situation, "She and Caesar talked about hair products and how her new job in the Capitol is going."

"So, same, wonderfully clueless Effie?"

"Same, wonderfully clueless Effie," I echoed, with a light smile.

"I'm slightly disappointed I missed the show now," he laughed.

"Well bread doesn't bake itself, you know," I teased.

We smiled at each other.

"Did you go into the forest today?" Peeta asked.

"Yes, I brought the children." I replied, turning to look at them once more through the window, "I taught them about nightlock and how to spot it."

"Good," He simply replied with a grin.

"We also looked through the family plant book. They really took an interest in it."

"That's great, Sweetheart," he said. After a few moments of silence he added, "I bet your father would be proud."

I was so shocked he had mentioned this I turned to look at him. His face was solemn, yet soft with the comfort and understanding I knew he experienced for me. I felt the edge of my lip twitch into a half-smile for a brief second as I turned back towards the window. I knew he was right.

The mention of my father also made my mind turn to my mother, who we speak with prettyregularly. She has remained in District 4 where she continues to work as a nurse, after rebuilding her life there and trying to push the haunting memories from her past behind her. She has seen our children on numerous occasions, but only when Peeta and I can corral them to travel to District 4 to see her. After all this time, my mother won't even step foot in District 12 for a short visit, terrified of the flashbacks.

We stared out of the window and watched the childen dance through the meadow in silence. Peeta put his arm around me in comfort, sensing my uneasiness. He pulled me close as we continued to gaze out of the window. It felt good when he held me; I felt the same sense of security I had with him those many years ago when he was there with welcoming arms. Now when I awake screaming from nightmares of mutts and lost children he is still there to hold me, as am I when his flashbacks take over... Because that's what we do, we protect each other.

**THE END**


End file.
